7 for Sunday

7 for Sunday is a weekly serving of 7 things for you to savor. — It’s an email containing my reflections on interesting things I find laying about, seasoned with some quotes from my collection. See https://7forsunday.com/.

Passion

January 29

With the power of hindsight I can see there was an age of fire. There was a long period—too long, probably—of trying to carve a path through the world. A period of trying to make a dent in the universe. Making my mark. I think it’s telling that all those metaphors involve destruction and defacement. Eventually I see a transition to the age of water. The metaphors are nicer there; flowing, accommodating, and shaping to fit the container.

What do I mean by explorers? I am talking about people who have found and are pursuing a very specific form of passion – I call it the “passion of the explorer.” These people are excited about opportunities to have more and more impact in domains that matter to them. They are constantly seeking new challenges that can help them to learn faster by creating new knowledge that never existed before. They also are actively seeking help from others in addressing these new challenges – they freely acknowledge that they don’t know the answers and that they need help in finding the answers.

~ John Hagel from, https://www.johnhagel.com/from-expert-to-explorer/

slip:4ujofo1.

Transitions are the difficult times. The wind blows from wildly varying directions. The currents shift. The lighting changes. Grand vistas come into view. More, and different, metaphors.

I can feel my raw power subsiding. Literally. Some days, a 20-minute nap, an hour or so after a nice lunch, is just the most sublime thing. (Not the nap of exhaustion. Not the nap of collapse.) After running the engine with the tachometer near the red-area, it feels nice to settle into the solid, long-haul part of the power curve. More metaphors: A journey. A quest. A culmination. A destination. An end.

ɕ

Dignity

January 28

Today, 7 rhetorical questions for Sunday…

What is necessary for something to continue existing?
Is autonomy necessary?
Is physical integrity (as opposed to “physical dispersion”) necessary?
Does dignity require privacy, which requires autonomy and physical integrity?

Privacy is the key that unlocks the aspects of yourself that are most intimate and personal, that make you most you, and most vulnerable. Your naked body. Your sexual history and fantasies. Your past, present and possible future diseases. Your fears, your losses, your failures. The worst thing you have ever done, said, and thought. Your inadequacies, your mistakes, your traumas. The moment in which you have felt most ashamed. That family relation you wish you didn’t have. Your most drunken night.

~ Carissa Véliz from, https://aeon.co/essays/privacy-matters-because-it-empowers-us-all

slip:4uaeea4.

When one violates another’s privacy, is that only attacking their dignity?
Is that also diminishing their autonomy?
Is that also attacking their physical integrity?

“But,” some say, “it’s just data.”

ɕ

The pendulum

January 26

Late in 2023 I started working on paper to create simple mind–maps around the individual ideas that go into my writing here. Call it nostalgia if you wish, but there’s something delightful about a nice pen and nice paper. I find I have a flurry of bat-like ideas around the central idea. Not all of them make it to the paper; Some are left to flutter right back out of the belfry.

After a while, the remaining bats settle down to roost as my scribbling sputters to a halt. Then there’s a bit of time where I pause (exactly how much varies greatly, sometimes I even surrender, get up and move away from the tablet) before I feel I can shift to the digital realm to begin the writing. That period of pause though is a straight-up struggle. Every time.

“Divergence” refers to opening up your senses and taking in new sources of information from the outside world, such as at the start of a new project. “Convergence” refers to shutting off sources of distraction and narrowing your focus to arrive at an end result.

Together, these two stages form the backbone of creative work going back millennia. In any field, we move like a pendulum back and forth between these two states of mind. Once you learn to see the pattern in your own work, you’ll understand how to flow with the tide of information rather than swim against it.

~ Tiago Forte from, https://fortelabs.com/blog/divergence-and-convergence-the-two-fundamental-stages-of-the-creative-process/

slip:4ufobo1.

It’s not clear to me that— Actually, no, I’m sure that I cannot intentionally switch from the divergent part of the work to the convergent. I just try to stay in the pause. Eventually, assuming I don’t give up and walk away, the writing feels easier than continuing to think about it. I often wonder why I keep writing on a schedule. It’s torturous. But now I’m thinking that I may have stumbled backwards into a way to push myself more quickly through to the convergent part of writing: If it has a due-date, then there’s a built-in increasing urgency to shut up, sit down… and wait, until the writing is the easiest path.

ɕ

Talking to myself

January 24

The other day I read a one-year-ago journal entry, and had a strong impression of having a long-distance conversation. Although I had not the slightest memory of writing the entry, it was clearly me. In fact, the me writing in those moments past, had something striking to say to the me reading a year later. Something insightful. Nearly poetic. Definitely useful.

The entry wasn’t from a depressed past–me. It wasn’t from a hopeful past–me. It was from someone who clearly had insight, who had thoughtfully crafted some phrasing, and who had included quotations for thematic punctuation. This happens to me a lot— nearly daily. I’m so glad that past me took the time (for it really does take prodigious amounts of time) to write that entry. And so I keep writing to myself in my journal.

Other times I find things in my journal that were clearly important—way too important—at the time, but I can’t recall the feeling. Sometimes I can’t even recall the event or project.

All of which serves to provide me with perspective and guidance on the faux urgencies and importanties of my todays.

ɕ

Two perspectives

January 22

Everything is fun, until one’s expectations are crushed. I thought I was getting the convenience of online shopping for things that were previously literally unavailable; Instead, the local stores closed and I’ve lost the convenience of local purchasing. I thought I was getting expanded communication via email; Instead, I’ve been overrun by people taking advantage of the ease of access. In 1989 I was excited by what we could all do with the Internet. So excited, that in 1994 I quit a funded research position and dropped out of graduate school.

Today’s internet is largely shaped by a dialog between two ideas. One position considers personal data as a form of property, the opposing position considers personal data as an extension of the self. The latter grants inalienable rights because a person’s dignity – traditionally manifested in our bodies or certain rights of expression and privacy – cannot be negotiated, bought, or sold.

~ David Schmudde from, https://schmud.de/posts/2022-12-05-different-internet.html

slip:4usupo4.

There’s nothing wrong with the Internet. There’s nothing wrong with people. There’s nothing wrong with government. The problem is in everyone’s failure to think things through. “Can” and “should” are very different animals. Until a plurality of people think things through—until a plurality of people stop delivering themselves into the power of ideas they do not know they have accepted—there will be nothing new under the sun.

ɕ

Derivative

January 21

I write a lot about “looking back”. (A lot: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 21 more posts, plus “looking back” has another 17 posts.) I clearly believe—I really do—that looking back is best for assessing things.

And yet… stress, unhappiness. (Important: Words left unsaid.)

By all objective metrics, I’m as successful today as I could hope to be a decade ago. I’m happily married, well inside the richest 1% globally, have found my tribe and earned some respect in it. I should be able to relax and take some satisfaction in my current situation. And yet the thought that in 5 years my life will look exactly like it does today fills me with dread.

~ Jacob Falkovich from, https://putanumonit.com/2019/08/15/unstriving/

slip:4upuui1.

My title is a nerdy reference to a small detail in the article. But it’s also a nerdy reference to how I feel that everything I write is simply derivative. Nonetheless, I’m looking back. I’m assessing my progress. I’m making some plans and I’m cutting red tape.

ɕ

In conversing

January 19

What are we really doing when we are conversing?

The need for conversation is one that many people have not fully acknowledged, perhaps because they have not had occasion to do enough of it or to do it well. I am not suggesting that, in conversing, we serve as each other’s therapists, but I do believe that good talk, when carried on with the right degree of openness, can not only be a great pleasure but also do us a great deal of good, both individually and collectively as members of society.

~ Paula Marantz Cohen from, https://aeon.co/essays/a-good-conversation-relaxes-the-mind-and-opens-the-heart

slip:4uaeea15.

I agree with Cohen; It’s definitely a need. We humans are inherently social beings. A great way to get companionship and intellectual stimulation is with a nice, juicy, inspiring, thought-provoking, belief-busting, mind-expanding conversation. Also great: Chats over tea. Jawboning over a beer. Whispers by candlelight. Raucous exclamations at the game. Judicious maneuvering. Single-serving sized (h/t Palahniuk.) Week-long retreating. And countless more I’m looking forward to discovering.

ɕ

Democracy

January 18

The polis or gathering place for governing, the root of our modern politics, was nothing but a physical space that designated and enabled the conversational space required for true self-governing. The capacity for talking together constituted the foundation for democracy, far more fundamental than voting. As one ancient Greek philosopher noted, “When voting started, democracy ended.”

~ Peter M. Senge

slip:4a1361.

Naming your audience

January 17

I recently had a conversation with someone while recording an episode of Podtalk. They mentioned the importance of naming our audience in the early moments of a podcast episode. An example they gave is: “Do you feel like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole? This podcast is for you.” (If you’re curious about this idea in the context of podcasting see, Naming our audiences.)

This idea was a quake moment for me. Because in order to name my audience—to literally say it, briefly, in a way that someone identifies with… Well, first I have to know who my audience is. I’m well aware one should know “who’s it for?” (If I just want to fiddle in my workshop, whatever-it-is can certainly just be, “it’s for me.”) It’s easy to know “who it’s for?” and to be able to talk about that when asked. It is vastly harder to name the audience, succinctly, in way a that connects with people.

Connection is precious. We can, and must, find ways to be so clear, and so vivid, that people literally feel a reaction when we name our audience. It’d be better if you heard me say this, but what happens when you read…

Are you the curious sort who leans in to find joy in learning and self-awareness? Terrific. You’re in the right place. Know anyone else who should be here too?

ɕ

Paying attention

January 15

Back when I got deeply into running and jumping and playing again, I spent all the rest of my time stiff and achy and sore. It was glorious. I began intentionally working on restorative practices. At first I was doing vanilla stretching routines. Then I started doing more exploratory work with foam rollers and lacrosse balls and resistance bands. Then things got more organized with little, light activities focusing on weak parts. These days I have a finely tuned sense of what needs to be attended to. A little exploratory movement here, an extension there. Something or other feels off—or perhaps it’s better to say: Something or other is noticeable. That attracts my curiosity and exploration.

Scientists call our ability to feel what’s happening inside our bodies interoception. A portmanteau of “interior” and “reception,” it differs from perception, which comes from our five senses, and proprioception, which tells us how we are oriented in space. Interoception is an inner sense having to do with our bodily processes. It can be divided into three rough categories. The first comprises feelings that break through into consciousness based on need; this is how we know when we need to pee or sleep or hydrate, and how we grasp that our hearts are racing after a good jump scare. The second encompasses the unconscious ways in which our brains and bodies communicate; our brains detect high glucose levels in our livers, for example, then release hormones that trigger our metabolisms, and we are unaware of the process. A vast number of these silent interoceptive processes are going on within us all the time.

~ Jessica Wapner from, https://www.newyorker.com/science/elements/the-paradox-of-listening-to-our-bodies

slip:4unesi1.

If this liminal space—between the clear and objective, and the fuzzy perception of our bodies—interests you, you’ll also like How to Be Animal.

ɕ

This may figure in

January 14

Aeon has been one of the better things I’ve recently found scattered upon the Internet. It’s not new; It’s new to me. One of my super-powers isn’t actually a super-power. It’s a piece of software that I wrote. Take a look at Aeon and imagine if, somehow, every day you were offered a couple of these essays to consider. Most of them I pass. But some of them…

For those with more serious loss, the decline of one sense often strengthens others. Watch anyone who has had hearing problems for a while and it’s obvious that they are listening differently. They listen with the whole of themselves, bodies turned towards the speaker, drinking in cues. They don’t hear so much as inhale, taking in everything from the expression in the other person’s eyes to the story told by their hands. At a sign language class or a deaf pub night, people — British people, even — will be listening and communicating with everything they have: gesture, expression, if necessary grabbing the other person and physically manhandling them into understanding.

~ Bella Bathurst from, https://aeon.co/essays/listening-is-a-pleasure-a-balm-and-an-art-time-to-tune-in

slip:4uaeea16.

I have always had poor hearing. If you’re a certain age, you’ll remember lining up to go into your school library, where someone gave you headphones and told you to raise your hand when you heard each tone. I didn’t have to raise my hand much, so, yay? /sarcasm Over the years I realized that I was compensating in other ways. Lip-reading being the most obvious. It wasn’t as good as Ye Ol’ Ears, but it worked. Somewhat. Eventually I got hearing aids and that’s another anecdote for another day.

Those who know me best, laugh derisively when I say, “People tell me I’m an amazing listener.” No really. A lot of people tell me that. And after reading that essay, I’m left wondering if having really poor hearing for most of my life, might be the secret to my listening.

ɕ